Barb Caffrey's Blog

Folks, the past several months have hit me hard. There have been several “sadiversaries” (AKA sad anniversaries), in a row, and it’s been almost unbearable sometimes to deal with all the grief, mourning, and frustration.

That’s just a fact.

In addition, one of the sadiversaries was the first anniversary of my father’s passing last year. My entire family had trouble with this; it was not just me, not in any way, shape, or form. When the day of observance came, in some ways I didn’t know what to do with myself.

See, going back into June, there was my wedding anniversary, which was possibly the happiest day of my life. Still, when you have had far more years without your husband’s physical presence than you did with, it can be hard to see any of the remaining happiness.

Then there was my husband’s birthday, which he never observed. (As previously stated here at my blog and elsewhere, Michael believed far more in every other day of the year. He’d rather celebrate 364 days than just one.) Yet I observed it…while I never got along with his mother, and never got a chance to meet his father (as Michael’s father died before I met him), the fact is that if they hadn’t met and married, Michael would never have been here at all. I felt that day was worthy of commemoration, and while Michael was alive I would treat it much the same as any other day, you have to understand something: I was so ecstatic to be with Michael, the man I loved, the man I married, the man who understood me…every day was like Christmas, New Year’s, July 4th, or any other holiday that you might wish to observe.

Getting past those two things wasn’t easy. But then there was my birthday, which went surprisingly well this year, followed by the anniversary of Michael’s passing in September. As it’s been a rough couple of years, I couldn’t help but wish I still could feel Michael’s arms around me, and hear his voice tell me it would be all right so long as we had each other. (Anything else could be surmounted, you see. We’d proven that.)

Then came the anniversary of Dad’s passing a few weeks ago. And it’s like something inside me just refused to keep going for a bit.

I think that’s part of the reason why I’ve been sick, physically ill, far more often than I’ve been well in the past few years. While my health was never as robust as it could’ve been, there’s been a marked downturn in some ways of energy, maybe because I’ve had a lot of responsibilities and not too much in the way of fun or entertainment.

See, we don’t live by bread alone. We need other things to season that bread with, or to put on the bread so it tastes better. Salt, pepper, olive oil, butter…you name it, any of those things will make bread taste better, especially if you combine a few. (Such as peppered butter. Yes, that’s a thing.) Yet in my case, I’ve been on subsistence rations for many years now.

I refuse to put on a false face for anyone, because I feel it detracts from my energy, my strength, and my sense of purpose. The way I do my best is to present myself as a hard-working, put-together woman who is trying her damnedest to overcome a difficult series of obstacles. I do that because that is my truth.

I worry, though, because we have AI now, and they aren’t paying writers what they should — or even anything at all — for scooping up their work and training the AIs in the vagaries of human behavior. (At least, this is what it seems from the outside.)

Another problem I’ve been dealing with over the past several months is the physical pain brought on by osteoarthritis throughout my body, along with fibromyalgia flare ups. This saps my strength further, because pain does that. (Then again, as one of Lois McMaster Bujold’s characters says, what golden moments can you wring from life despite the pain? Still working on that one.)

I also worry because I had a very weird experience with someone recently. I thought we were getting to know each other, as friends, and I enjoyed having someone to talk with at the odd hours I have to discuss anything…someone new helped for a while, because I worry that I put too much on my long-term friends as it is. (Sometimes it’s harder to stand and watch as your friend flails than it is to actually do the flailing. Or at least I’m willing to postulate that as possible, maybe even probable.) I looked forward to discussing things with this person, until the day came where I was asked for money — and not just, “Can I borrow $20?”

See, this individual may or may not have been telling me the truth. But one thing I did know was that what was being proposed — me paying bills for them that I’d supposedly get reimbursed for later, all because the account he had was frozen — was a well-known scam. Maybe there’s someone out there who has this real problem, but if he or she does, they need to realize only their long-term friends with a very, very long baseline of knowledge about said person and their life experiences is going to be able to do any good.

What I ended up doing was, I said if the finances were so terrible, it was time to go to the state and ask for help. (Supposedly this person’s son was very ill. The details I’d heard were correct, too. Some con games are far more successful when there’s something true about them, though.) Or go to the hospital and/or clinics the son was being treated at and ask to have bills reduced through community/charity care. (This is a real thing, so if you ever get in a financial bind in the US, ask for help.) Further, I pointed out St. Jude’s Hospital for Children in Indiana, as this person said he was from downstate Illinois — not very far away from Indiana! — and said they were a possibility to bring their sick child to in order to get care. St. Jude’s takes no money from parents; they raise money via donation, in the belief that sick children need care regardless of how much, or even if, their parents can pay at all — and they’re right.

Then I blocked the individual.

I tell you all this for one reason: it’s been a huge stressor on top of other huge stressors. Something that started out as fun chit-chat ended up as that (someone who wanted something from me that I could not provide), and it made me feel like I was just a piece of meat or something. (Shades of Lady Gaga’s “meat dress” from years ago.)

So, that’s why I haven’t blogged in a while. I’ve been trying to get through what seems like a minefield that, while not necessarily filled with active mines, definitely was filled with quicksand (to pull me under), molasses (to keep me stuck), and a whole lot of trepidation.

I don’t know how I’m going to get through this stretch of time. But I figured I’d at least come here and let you know — whoever is still reading, or will read this whenever they see it and are bored (or whatnot) — that I am alive.

Frustrated, but alive.

Angry, but alive.

Tired out of my mind, wishing for a good thing to happen somewhere, somehow…but alive.

My only thought now is this: I hope you all are being good to yourself and your loved ones, and are treating each other the way you, yourselves, want to be treated.

Despite everything, I still believe that is the best strategy to go through life. Treat each other with respect, dignity, and try to find the good in people…or at least try not to spread vitriol, as I’ve said so many times before.

I hope I’m not just shouting into the void, now, with this blog. But if I am, at least I tried…picture me ruefully chuckling at that, because I’d rather try and fail than just refuse to do anything at all.

Let me know how you all are doing, OK? And if you have had something good happen that made you smile, tell me about it in the comments. (Please?)